


marry me, eddie diaz

by elisela



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26333632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: There’s a long silence, and then, “you do that a lot,” Eddie says, looking over at him strangely.“I do what a lot?”“Ask me to marry you,” Eddie says. “I know it’s just a joke, but I feel like—” he stops and shakes his head, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 598





	marry me, eddie diaz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madamewriterofwrongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamewriterofwrongs/gifts).



He’s never agreeing to take another half-shift immediately after a 24 hours shift again. It’s been suspiciously quiet; it’s not uncommon to go through days where he’s man-behind because ninety percent of the calls are med-only, but he’s crawling his way towards hour thirty-one and at this rate his eyes will turn to dust by the time the clock decides to idly tick over to 9:00pm and he gets to leave. 

There’s nothing left for him to do. He’s stocked all the med kits, taken inventory of the supplies in the closet, chopped up every single vegetable in the refrigerator and searched the internet high and low for a new shopping list for Bobby, one with everything he could possibly need typed out neatly so Buck didn’t have to try to decipher his untidy scrawl next time they went to the grocery store. He’s gone through instagram, facebook, reddit—every social media site until the images and text bled together and he was stuck in an endless cycle of scrolling. 

“Buckley!”

He rolls his head towards the back of the couch when he hears his name shouted from downstairs, frowning, because it sounds like Eddie, but Eddie had left at 9:00am with a pitying look and a clap on Buck’s back, but—

It is Eddie, standing at the foot of the stairs with Chris, and—

“Oh, no _way_ ,” he says, happily launching himself off the couch and stumbling in his haste to get down the stairs. Maybe he should take the pole, that would be faster. He grabs Chris up under the arms, squeezing him tight, and doesn’t bother to control the look of complete adoration on his face. “You brought Moo’s. _Eddie_. This is amazing, I wanted barbecue so bad this morning—”

“I know you did, I was there when you wouldn’t stop talking about it,” Eddie says, grinning. “Come on, Chris threw some blankets in the back of the truck, let’s go eat outside before an alarm gets you.”

“Dad got key lime pie,” Chris whispers in his ear as they head out, and Buck turns towards Eddie and beams.

“Eddie Diaz,” he says, “I’m going to need you to marry me.”

Eddie laughs, loud and sweet. “You’re not getting my slice, Buck.” But he leans over and presses a kiss to Buck’s cheek once they get into the truck bed, so Buck figures it’s a start.

Eddie curses beside him, a sudden, forceful exhale calling Buck’s attention, and he looks over sleepily. “Sup, Eds?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eddie shakes his head. “I forgot Chris had a check-up this morning and I double-booked. The tire place had a last minute opening and I’ve been putting it off long enough, it’s not really safe to drive on them anymore—”

“So take my Jeep,” Buck says, knocking his knee against Eddie’s. “Problem solved.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “I’ll call and cancel—”

He frowns. “Eddie,” he says, shaking his head, “you take Chris, I’ll take the truck in. It’ll be, what, two hours tops? I’ll just meet you at your place to switch cars when everything is done. Not like I’ve got much else to do.”

“Right, not like you usually nap after a shift,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t ask you—”

“You didn’t,” Buck says. “I offered. Come on, Eds, let me do this for you.”

There’s a pause, and Eddie’s hand lands on his thigh, squeezing, and a thrill runs up Buck’s spine. “Thanks, Buck,” he says. “Not sure what I would do without you sometimes.”

“Me neither,” Buck agrees, grinning. “You should probably lock me down and marry me already before all this is snapped up by someone else.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Eddie laughs. “How about we start with forgetting the ‘your place’ and ‘my place’ thing and just make it our place? Then it would be easier—”

Buck twists and lets himself fall, grabbing onto Eddie and bringing him down on the couch with him—not something he’s supposed to be doing at work, but his boyfriend just asked him to move in and he figures that surely the explanation will get him a pass this one time. “I don’t need convincing,” he says, kissing Eddie on the nose before ducking his head down and pressing their lips together softly. “If you’re asking, I’m in.”

“What do you mean, you need your credit card?” Eddie asks with a frown. “You’re supposed to be doing your taxes, not shopping.”

“I need to pay to file it,” he says, gesturing at the laptop, and pulls his hands away when Eddie turns the screen towards himself.

“Buck,” he sighs, “you’re single—”

“Hey!”

Eddie gives him an unimpressed look. “You _file your taxes_ as single—idiot—you don’t have any dependants—although maybe I should just try to claim you as one this year, God knows you need someone looking out for you—no investments—”

“You don’t know that,” Buck says, even though Eddie’s right. He _could_ have investments, he just—doesn’t.

“—all you need is a 1040A, and you shouldn’t be paying for that,” Eddie says over him. “Look, just give me your documents and I’ll do it for you, okay?”

Well, insults or not, Buck isn’t going to turn the offer down. “You’re amazing,” he says, and he closes the laptop and tosses it onto the couch next to him. “I should put a ring on you before it’s too late. Let’s drive to Vegas tonight and get married, it can be really classy, we can get Elvis and everything.” 

There’s a long silence, and then, “you do that a lot,” Eddie says, looking over at him strangely.

“I do what a lot?”

“Ask me to marry you,” Eddie says. “I know it’s just a joke, but I feel like—” he stops and shakes his head, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Feel like?” Buck prompts, when it’s obvious that Eddie’s not going to continue on his own, and adds “don’t say it doesn’t matter,” when Eddie opens his mouth again, because he knows exactly how this conversation usually goes. “Come on, Eds. You feel like what? Pressured?”

“No,” Eddie says, quietly but firmly, looking down, “no, I feel like—I wish you would mean it.”

Buck’s always figured that when people say something caught them by surprise and they stopped breathing that they were exaggerating, but it’s only the way his throat starts to burn after a few seconds that reminds him to pull a breath in. “I do mean it,” he says, reaching over and taking Eddie’s hand, tugging until Eddie’s eyes meet his. “I meant it every time.”

Eddie smiles and shakes his head. “We weren’t even together when you started,” he says. “You asked me to marry you after our third shift together, after I let you borrow my shirt.”

“I still meant it,” Buck says. “If you had said yes—Eddie, I would have printed off the papers for a license and filed it before you even had time to regret it, I swear.”

“Funny that you think I’d regret it,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand. “But, uh, if you’re asking, then—”

“No,” Buck blurts out, and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “No, not that—yes. I’m—I _will_ ask. Soon. But you deserve better than this, just sitting here talking about _taxes_ , God, Eddie, no.”

“This,” Eddie says, waving a hand around, gesturing between them, “is us, Buck. I don’t need anything more than that.”

He squeezes Eddie’s hand—too tight, probably, but God, he loves him. “Maybe not,” he says, “but I want to do the whole speech and everything for you, so just let me. Saturday, okay? 8pm. I’ll ask you then.”

Eddie looks at him for a moment, lips pressed together, tongue pushing his cheek out like he does when he’s trying not to laugh. “Alright,” he says. “And I’ll say yes at 8:01pm.”


End file.
